by S. A. Lusher
He pulled out his pistol as he came to the cargo ramp. There were lights on inside the vessel, although they looked man-made, having that artificial, pale glow to them. After stopping and listening at the foot of the ramp for a long moment, he determined that there was no one inside. Or at least no one who was moving around. Enzo moved his finger inside the trigger guard, then began making his way nice and slow up the ramp.
A part of him had expected the material to be slick, almost absent of friction entirely, based on how it looked. But his his boots had no problem clinging to the surface, nor did they stick to it. There was the perfect amount of give, the perfect amount of grip. He came to the top of the ramp and found himself staring into a medium-sized cargo bay. No Cyr stuff in it, but a lot of human crap. The researchers had piled up workstations, scanning gear and crates all along the interior, not to mention strung up their own lights.
It all looked ugly and out of place among the sleek design of the Cyr ship. Enzo noticed that there didn't appear to be any corners along the edges of the room. Where two flat pieces of material might meet in a human ship, say the floor and a wall, it was smooth and curved gently. Enzo spent a few moments checking out the workstations and the gear, but it was all locked down and it didn't look like he was getting into it.
He ignored it, moving back to the only other door in the room. Except that it wasn't a door, more of a doorway. If there was ever a door there, it was either gone or so expertly hidden as to not exist. Enzo passed through it into a length corridor. There were openings, more doorways, along either side and at the end. Stopping, he peered into the nearest opening and frowned at what he saw. The room beyond was about half the size of the cargo bay he'd just come from. The walls were lined with metal cylinders of the deepest black.
Each had a window that allowed someone to view inside, but when Enzo looked, all he could find was an empty interior. All the rooms were like this, rows upon rows of these containers. The color of the metal, not just black but midnight black, the color of black holes in deep, dead space, seemed to awaken some terror in him. They instilled a sense of primal fear, a gut reaction. Danger, they said, something dangerous is in here.
Was in here, he realized as he finally found some tubes that weren't empty. They had Slugs floating in them, suspending in some clear liquid. Inert, unmoving, held in some manner of stasis it seemed. Enzo frowned, studying the things for a long moment, then finally returned to the central corridor. He moved down its length, coming to the opposite end, and stepped into what must have been the bridge. Not much of a bridge, though.
Normally, human vessels had bridges that were packed with all manner of gear and equipment, at least a dozen workstations or more. Here, there were just two devices, what seemed to be a combination workstation and what might have been called a chair that grew straight out of the ground. Enzo studied the stations. They were flat, blank expanses of white material that might have been metal. He frowned, wondering how they worked, then realized that they must be holographic displays. While he wasn't exactly satisfied, Enzo figured he'd gotten all he could out of personally visiting the alien vessel. At least he'd confirmed that this was, in fact, where they'd harvested the Slugs.
But where had the Slugs come from before that? Why were they on this vessel? It seemed to be some kind of containment vessel, not a research ship...although he was in no position to make that assessment, given his utter lack of knowledge of the Cyr. Either way, he didn't like the idea of humans pulling the Slugs out and toying with them. The result had been obviously disastrous. Enzo traced his way back through the vessel, coming down the ramp and stepping back out into the cavern. Time to keep going up.
He glanced back up at the observation platform and froze. The lights were on. Someone was moving around up there. While he was still figuring out what to do, Enzo heard the crackle of a powerful intercom system.
“Uh...hello down there?” a voice asked, echoing across the area. “Are you human?”
Enzo hesitated, then figured that he might as well respond. “Yeah!” he called. “Who are you?”
“My name's Ramirez. Private First Class Ramirez.”
Enzo groaned. Not a fucking soldier. He hated soldiers. Okay, to be honest, he hated most people, but soldiers especially. They always acted like they were so...superior. Enzo remained where he was a bit longer, considering the situation.
“What's your name?” Ramirez asked.
“Enzo,” he replied finally.
“Come on up, then. I can send the lift down to you. Eve sent me.”
Enzo sighed and figured that was as close as he was going to get to a trustworthy situation. He began making his way across the cavern, towards the lift lashed on to the wall beside the observation deck, contained in a boxy structure of steel girders. The lift began to slide down to the bottom. Enzo crossed the cavern, still keeping the pistol in hand, and stepped onto the lift as it settled into place. He hit the up button and waited for it to ascend.
Having someone else around, physically there, in person, would be nice...to an extent. It was kind of a double-edged sword. On the one hand, he'd have someone there to watch his back, someone who might know more than he did about the facility or with certain skills that he didn't possess. On the other hand, now he had someone who might betray him. The Mutants were an obvious threat, but another human wasn't so obvious.
The lift came to a halt. He stepped through the only door and found PFC Ramirez waiting for him. He was a young man, still in his early to mid twenties, his skin tan. His features and accent put him somewhere among the South American colonies, or perhaps from the homeland itself. Enzo thought Brazil was the likeliest candidate. They had a number of mining investments and colonies throughout the galaxy.
“Hello,” Ramirez said.
Everything about him seemed clipped and formal, like an average Marine. Tall, lean, muscled. A sharp gaze and a high-and-tight hair cut. He had on bloodied and battle-scarred black and green camouflage armor and an assault rifle in hand.
“So you're Enzo Rains?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Enzo replied, studying the observation deck. It was packed with all manner of scanning equipment and tracking gear, all of it set into place behind huge, nearly floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the cavern.
“We've been in contact with Eve, she sent me down here to do the tasks that you ended up doing, so we just decided it'd be best for you and me to meet up and head back upstairs,” Ramirez explained, seeming eager to go.
“She just sent you? No one else?” Enzo asked.
“Well...” he sighed, “it's not quite that simple. Eve...is kind of in a position of power. She's holed up in the Control Room. But she's...I think she's a technician. And all that's left really are us Marines and the Dark Ops jerkoffs, and those things, of course. What Eve wants to do and what my Staff Sergeant Stern wants to do don't really match up. But we felt that keeping everyone alive was something we could both agree on, so they sent me down.”
“Fantastic. Just wonderful. The last people that are left alive in this whole godforsaken facility are split up into a three-way fucking contest for control,” Enzo muttered.
“Yeah. Hey, do you have a radio on you, by chance? I lost mine in all the fighting,” Ramirez replied, heading for the elevator at the back.
“Yeah, I do. Hold on.”
Enzo reactivated the radio and tried to get in touch with Eve. After several unsuccessful tries, he heaved a sigh and gave up.
“I wonder what's wrong...” Ramirez murmured.
“She's been doing this since we first started talking. She had long periods of radio silence. If it's these Dark Ops guys giving her trouble, I guess that'd explain it. Where are we going, exactly? What's the plan?” Enzo asked.
“Get back up to my Staff Sergeant and figure this shit out, I guess. Avoid the killer monsters and the guys in black armor,” Ramirez replied as he led Enzo to another elevator at the back of the observation deck.
Enzo didn't
like that plan, but he didn't really have much choice.
So he just shut up and followed.
For the moment.
Chapter 07
–Research Fringe–
“So what's your story?” Enzo asked.
They were climbing up an elevator shaft that would take them to the next level. The lift hadn't worked. Enzo fully intended to see what was on Level Six. Ramirez was above him, making his way up the ladder. So far, there was nothing in the shaft with them.
“My story?” Ramirez replied.
“Yeah. Why are you here? You working with the scientists? I understand this facility is run by Dark Operations,” Enzo said.
“It is. How'd you know that?”
“I've been doing some digging since I woke up.”
“I see. Well, no, I'm not. This is actually a joint operation. Dark Ops and the Marines. We're here to offer extra security...though it was pretty obvious from the get go that were weren't really offering security,” Ramirez explained.
“What were you doing?”
“I imagine keeping an eye on Dark Ops. I don't really know too much about all this, to be honest. Four months ago, I was enjoying some R and R. After it was up, instead of heading back to where I was supposed to go, me and my unit got rotated out, picked up by some Special Ops types. They took command of us and three other units, told us all we were going on 'special assignment'. We were thrown in a big transport vessel and shipped halfway across the galaxy. We got here. It doesn't look like much from the surface...” Ramirez paused.
Enzo did as well. They both stopped climbing. A sound came echoing up to them...or was it down? Enzo looked in both directions, but could see nothing. Of course, the light inside the shaft was emergency red, hazy and offered little in the way of actual visibility. Could any of those things climb? He didn't rule it out.
“Guess it was nothing,” Ramirez murmured, resuming his climb.
“What is it on the surface? I imagine they didn't make it too obvious,” Enzo replied.
“They didn't. There's a weather station on top, converted from an old mining complex. That's how they found it. The miners dug into on accident. The operation was shut down when the Galactic Alliance stepped in. This is all stuff I've pieced together myself from rumors and the occasional actual report I've managed to dig up. The planet, Syberia, was originally colonized by the Russians. But the Americans wanted it, too, and they made a deal. Set up the mine and a few other settlements. So, naturally, they find fucking Cyr tech on the planet.”
Enzo knew that talk of Russian and Americans might confuse the younger generations, or even the less investigative civilians, because technically, every nation and country had been united into the Galactic Alliance almost a hundred years ago, and most colonies tended to be very multicultural. But he also knew that, to a certain degree, the larger countries, (the ones that hadn't been absorbed by other, more powerful nations down the centuries), still remained intact and independent. Maybe he was just sensitive to the fact because of what had happened to him in his own military career. He turned bitterly from that thought.
“So they closed down the mine?” Enzo asked.
“Yeah, shut it down, created false documents saying that the original scans of the planet had been incorrect due to faulty equipment and that the operation was a bust. They set up a basic weather station over it as a cover, slipped in all the parts and pieces to build this facility over the next month,” Ramirez continued.
“This is a big facility.”
“It is. Dark Ops works fast. There could be more to it, but that's all I know. We pulled a lot of guard duty, just patrolling around. Not in Level Six or Five, though. They wouldn't let us down there. What I think was going on was Dark Ops was put in charge of figuring out how to work the spacecraft, and found the things inside of it and started doing experiments. The GA sent the Marines for 'extra protection' because they didn't fully trust Dark Ops. And what we ended up with was one gigantic clusterfuck,” Ramirez explained.
He stopped as they finally came to the top of the shaft. Enzo watched the young soldier disappear up over the lip of the holding area where the elevator normally would have resided. Ramirez turned and offered Enzo a hand, he stared at it for a moment, then reluctantly took it and allowed himself to be hauled up.
“Who's left?” Enzo asked.
“I don't really know. The girl in the command center, me and my CO and two other soldiers, and some Dark Ops guys, I think. Other than that...” he shrugged.
“What actually happened?” Enzo asked.
They moved carefully along the metal outcropping that lined the interior of the elevator shaft, over to the doors that would admit them access. They were open, having been previously forced that way by Ramirez on the way down.
“I'm not sure I'm the guy to tell you that. There was an explosion, something fell over, hit me on the head, knocked me out. By the time I woke up, everything had kind of already happened,” Ramirez replied, stepping through the door.
“Do you at least know how long you were out?”
“About a day.”
“This all happened in a day?”
“I guess so, come on.”
Enzo stepped through as well. They'd come to a small reception area, bare save for a security desk. There were two doors out. Ramirez made for the one on the right.
“Come on,” he said, his voice low, “this is how I got in. We need to get up higher, regroup with my CO, he'll know what to do.”
“Yeah, I'm sure,” Enzo muttered.
They moved through the door and came to a corridor that'd been repainted with blood. They moved down it, staying silent for the moment. Ramirez opened the door on the opposite end and stepped through. Enzo lingered, frowning. The next room was very dark, lit only by a curious green glow. He studied it for a moment.
“Come on,” Ramirez whispered harshly.
Enzo stepped through. Something about that glow made him uncomfortable. Flanking him on either side were rows of human-sized containers. The glow was emanating from them, well, some of them. There were dozens of them, they lined the entire wall, from floor to ceiling, stacked atop each other. Rows and columns of the coffins, three high, something like thirty across. Enzo stopped again, briefly stricken by the sight.
“This is where they keep the test subjects, I guess,” Ramirez said quietly.
“Where do they get them from?” Enzo murmured, turning and approaching the nearest one that was still light. Less than a quarter of them still had light. He figured that meant that those were the only ones with live people inside.
“I don't know for sure. I heard rumors that they were raiding prison transports, you know, guys that were already convicted anyway. I imagine they'd cover it up, make up some sort of story. But,” he shrugged, “I don't know for sure.”
“I do,” Enzo murmured.
“You do?”
“I was on a prison transport, hitchhiking, before I woke up here. This is where I must have been. Eve said the only way to get me out of my tube was to put me down into the furnace,” Enzo murmured, staring at the person inside.
It was a man, and only his head and shoulders were visible through the glass. He was floating in liquid, a breathing mask hooked up to his face, as well as several wires. This was how he must have looked, Enzo realized with a shudder.
“We should help them,” Ramirez said suddenly. “I mean, we can't just leave them like this.”
“Yes, we can,” Enzo replied. “We need to get out of here.”
Ramirez frowned, clearly unhappy with the response. Enzo sighed and tried to play the diplomat. “They're safer in there. You really want a couple dozen naked, confused prisoners following us around?” he asked.
Ramirez thought about it, but still seemed unsatisfied.
Enzo sighed again. “Fine, I'll call Eve. But if we can't figure a way to get them out, then we're leaving. Or, more importantly, I'm leaving.”
“Fine,” Ramirez replied.
Enzo fired the radio up. He spent a moment trying to get in touch with Eve, but still received no reply. Nothing, not even the soft whisper of static. He was beginning to suspect that the thing had been broken somehow.
“See? Nothing,” Enzo said. “Let's go.”
Ramirez reluctantly followed him out of the darkened room and into another corridor. They moved silently down it. Enzo was still toying with the idea of simply staying put on the current level and exploring, but his shoulder was starting to bug him again and he was getting a bad feeling from the area. He was still weighing his options when they stepped out of the corridor and came into the next room, where Ramirez said they could escape through.
“Uh oh,” Ramirez said quietly, freezing up, raising his rifle.
Enzo had to agree with that assessment. The room he'd come to was vast, warehouse-sized. The walls were lined with cages of unbreakable glass and steel in a grid pattern, going all the way up to the ceiling. A handful of surgery bays occupied the center of the room, in between the ranked rows of the cages. Most of them were open, emptied and bloodied. Only a handful were left occupied by a scant few Mutants and Slugs.
“This is where they keep the specimens,” Enzo murmured.
“Yeah, and I've got some bad news. More cages are open now than before, when I first came through here,” Ramirez replied.
As he said it, a low growl cut through the area. From all across the room, behind surgical bays, emerging from shadows and open doorways, a pack of Harvesters came for them. These ones were lean and mean, not yet having had a chance to feast on the flesh of the dead. Enzo counted four, then six, then a dozen altogether.
“Shit,” he muttered, looking down at his pistol.
